


Lighting Up the Void

by maevestrom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bathing/Washing, Battle, Brotherly Love, Budding Love, Canon Backstory, Character of Faith, Crossing the Sea, Desertion, Developing Relationship, Engagement, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fear of Death, Friendship/Love, Horses, Knights - Freeform, Loss of Brothers, Marching, Mila Tree, Near Death Experiences, Ocean, Parenthood, Plans For The Future, Prayer, Priests, Rain, Religion, Romance, Second Act, Serious Injuries, Silence, Spiritual, Time Travel, Valm Inquisition, War, antisocial tendencies, warship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevestrom/pseuds/maevestrom
Summary: There's a lot flying around Sully's head during the Valm inquisition, and Libra's head is never at rest, but through the haze of military life ahead and the past behind, the two unlikeliest, most unapproachable, least romantic people in the army build a corner of the army just for themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back on my bullshit today. This will be a hella traditional sort of fluff story, but like, more legit and real. Just because there are scars on your heart doesn't mean that there won't be fluff! 
> 
> Chapters will be updated frequently! The narrative will probably be imbalanced, fair warning

She isn’t good with people.

Not embarrassingly bad or anything. No one meets her approach with dread or passive-aggressively tries to drive her away (though she would tell them flat out to knock that shit off), but she can tell. She’s not the sharpest ax in the armory but she knows that a lot of people aren’t sure what to make of her. Even those that befriend her, hell even those attracted to her, know that her filterless speak, intolerance of bullshit, lack of patience for social cues, and a lack of chivalry and respect ill-fitting of a knight or woman… well, they just come with the Sully package. Love it or leave it, she reckons, and to be honest, she can understand each option.

Being the connoisseur of interacting without an ounce of social grace means she can notice when others are as well- they’re her damn people, after all- and she can see it in Libra. Hell, she’s kinda proud of herself; that’s not someone many would see through that easily, but it comes crazily easy to her. Libra is respectful, kind, and graceful. He’s kind of a beautiful person, so much that she thought he was a woman, because even though she tries not to think that way, she was conditioned to think that’s how women are supposed to, and he’s a damn better woman than anyone else she’s ever met,

But she’s caught onto him clear as day. Cause everyone’s a litmus test of how normal people interact. It’s kinda fun to watch. Everyone with their oddities and neuroses having meet-cutes and suddenly getting along then really getting along. She kind of likes seeing the relationships blossoming. It’s like a play in real time.

Then there’s him. People give him all the opportunities in the world- they talk to him, invite him to things, try to figure out his likes and dislikes- you know, how friends do- and he politely keeps the conversation from going any further than a kind priest grateful for the strangers he will meet in his life. All the courtesy in the world bounces off of this satin pillow wall of a human.

So it’s only natural that she developed a sort of precocious crush on him.

She can defend it. It’s mysterious in a sort of attractive way, like literally attractive, like drawn to him attractive, and honestly, to her, that’s the most romantically attractive thing you can be at all. There are a few people she’s met that cast off friendship or romance- and she herself has definitely ruled out romance as a thing she will experience- but they brood a lot or make it known how little time or give-a-shit they focus on forging those bonds. That ain’t him. He doesn’t push people away, he just smiles as they tire themselves out and assign him to the acquaintance barrel. He does it like that’s the outcome he should expect for himself.

She doesn’t like it.

But it’s interesting, at least.

The first time they really interact, she doesn’t expect to get far, so she doesn’t give him her life story or talk about her biggest fears. But she knows that he’s helpful, compulsively so, so she asks him to help move a couple of boxes from one end of the camp to the armory on the other. “I was just looking for a pair of hands,” she explains like she didn’t keep a lookout for the area for an hour.

He does help, and she thanks him with an alarming amount of sweetness and _means_ it, Naga above what is _wrong_ with her? She makes small talk- Shepherd life, how he likes it there, if there’s anyone that interests him. His answers are all serviceable and meaningless- he wants to serve Naga and make her world better, he’s grateful that everyone was so dedicated to serving the people with their lives- but it’s not like she actually expected answers out of him so she didn’t have hopes to crash. Still, seeing and experiencing his noncommittal answers made to end a conversation, a friendship, before it starts, is strangely isolating, because she wanted to be his friend and not just someone strangely longing to know him.

So she does it again. And again. And again. Probably gets a little transparent about things. Enlists his help in such simple things that she looks a little vulnerable. It’s a good way to make small talk, but godsdamn, it cannot stay the way it is. He has just the right answer for all her small talk, She’ll talk about her mount, he’ll talk about how intelligent the bond between man and animal is. Talk about rejoining the Shepherds after the Valm inquisition is known to them, and he says it is his duty as a man of faith.

The answers tend not to be about him, and the ones about him are about the concept of him. She’s running out of axes to polish and crates to haul. She figures that she should probably at least offer him something, extend a line to him and see if he pulls before she keeps throwing her emotional energy off a cliff.

She would try the honorary Shepherds icebreaker of challenging him to a spar- that’s how she gets to know everyone. But what she gathers from him is that he’s a man that loves peace, kinda befitting of him trying to be a nice man of the cloth.

So she asks him on patrol.

That’s on the fly- she almost asks him to try some tea with her but heaven help the person who allows her to prepare food and drink. Since he’s taken the role of her helper, he falls for her trap. Half of the first ten minutes is her trying to think of the right thing to say that would get an answer from him without scaring him from speaking too much.

So, all innocuous-like, she asks “so…” while leaning against a tree on the edge of camp “I know we haven’t even started yet but… when this whole mess is over… do you know what you’re gonna do?” Planning conversations like a strategy makes her better at them. Kind of sad to think about that, but here she is.

He closes his eyes, and she immediately thinks that it isn’t going well for damn sure. He opens them and smiles. The kind of smile that is preparing something, and not just preparing to fall back on the same half-answers. It leaves her kinda hopeful.

“I suppose that I would like to open an orphanage.”

Now _there’s_ an idea. “That’s ambitious! I kinda wanna see that.”

He beams. “It would be an honor,” he says as the two of you get back to walking around the perimeter. “I would be honored to give back to the world.”

There he goes again, talking about the concepts of things. Something to admire from a distance. A trick that gets cheaper by the conversation. This is a little different, though, They’re concepts as they relate to him. How he feels about them.

So if he dares a little, she will too.

“I think you really care about that. Like I can’t imagine anyone giving the effort towards it that you do.”

He smiles sadly. Like he’s glad that she said that, but it’s an untrue statement. He’s wrong, it is true, but that’s beside the point. She wonders why he reacted that way, and how important it is at setting up the edge pieces of the puzzle that is Libra.

“Perhaps it’s how I prove…” he starts, but it fades away.

“Prove?” she dares to ask.

He shakes his head. “Ah, it’s nothing to worry about.”

She fakes an “okay” even though in the corners of her mind she just threw an ax at the ground in frustration. She’s absolutely gonna worry about it now- this whole exercise in curious self-deprecation.

They don’t talk about anything that matters for the rest of the patrol.

She leaves it with a towering, shaking stack of questions, but she’ll answer them down the line.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just half of chapter 1 but I will post the next chapter tomorrow

The time before the Shepherds officially join the fray in Valm is not very interesting for Libra. It’s often too boring to circle the wagons, so to speak. Perchance this is the best time to get to know everyone before they set off across the oceans, but to be honest, no one holds his interests.

Well, save her.

He can’t help but linger whenever he sees her, because he has acknowledged that she has started to break his defenses a little. He likes the way she leads. Too many people drop invasive questions on him that he couldn’t answer cleanly without giving away a bit of himself that he couldn’t retrieve. Not that he can blame them; diving straight into personal, expository details works with so many. They’re happy to be vulnerable. Isn’t it miserable for them? It always is for him.

He likes the way she talks. She’s very blunt but guarded in a way. A few people prepared him for Sully, saying she was abrasive, challenging, interesting to deal with. Soft talk that was, in its own way, somewhat degrading. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but she was definitely less of a handful that people made her out to be. (People are quite driven by instinct and gut feelings- things he has currently shelved.) She is very considerate, even if at times he can tell that she’s frustrated by his immediate answers. She’s shown that she’s more than she seems. He can’t help but think she deserves more.

He says it’s nothing to worry about when he veers closer to being personal. That’s a half-truth; maybe three-quarters of the truth. It should be nothing she worries about. A lot in his life has led to the cynical, lonesome way he thinks, the scars on his heart that, like the one on the back of his neck, have no way to fully heal. The scars can be a burden to carry for him enough for him to avoid the idea of passing them on to her.

Still, he doesn’t think it right to let himself get in the way of her good intentions.

So he adjusts his answers.

They go on lookout duty a lot. Enough so that Robin gives him an odd look, but he honestly doesn’t mind the curiosity of others (and how they tend to give him too much credit). Sully retreats into the same small talk that she did when he made her acquaintance. Some of the questions are even the same as before. At first, it seems like an accident, but the more he answers them honestly, the more she recycles them- like she’s letting him answer them correctly.

Nothing he gives away is too personal. Personal-adjacent, maybe, but nothing that requires too much from him. When she asks him if he’s enjoying life with the Shepherds, he replies with his admiration of the Shepherds acting like a well-oiled machine that found room to give him a part. He talks about a bird he kept as company during a few months in his priesthood that, though the bird has passed, still lightens his heart to speak of, knowing that they did not leave him of their own volition.

When she asks if he is interested in any of the Shepherds, the romantic intent is there perhaps more than she intends in the first place. He immediately shakes his head, but she has her hand on her hip because she knows there’s more.

“I will admit that thinking of the Shepherds as individuals can be tricky…” he admits with a pause. “I am so used to them being a singular entity. _The Shepherds._ Thinking of many of them as the individuals they are… is not an unappealing test, but a test regardless.”

She snorts, but it’s endeared and strangely endearing. “You really like those big damn concepts, aye?”

Goodness, she’s right. “In a way… it’s a refuge.”

“Refuge,” she muses. “Yeah, that’s what I figured, yeah.”

“I’m woefully predictable,” he smiles sadly again. “I hope you’ve not grown weary of me as a conversation partner.” After he says that, he winces as if struck. Were he to state such a concept, it’s entirely through the hypothetical relief of the other person. Never is it through his own desire to keep her nearby to speak to him.

Something seems to be off within him.

He hopes the gods are bestowing him with mercy.

She laughs. “Nah, I get it.” She places a hand on his shoulder. He forces a smile, but he doesn’t know how forced it was until she removes it suddenly and hisses “ooh” like she set it on a hot plate and not a human being. “Sorry,” she winces, so apologetic that it feels intensely personal, more vulnerable than he would like, because, as the gods would have it, she cares.

For that alone, he should apologize to her.

“Quite all right,” he responds before he can measure his words. “You didn’t know. I’m not very keen on physical contact.”

She looks up at him with eyes both excited and confused. “Oh, I can dig that,” she says with pride that he doubts even she knows the root of.

He smiles. He can’t convince himself that he deserves it, but he’s quite pleased to have someone to trust.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though, technically, the war has started, it doesn’t feel real until after the final ships leave Port Ferox. Hell, even on the ocean it barely does. The team already had experience batting away the dregs of Valmese thugs that crossed the sea they themselves were about to traverse. Plegia took its sweet-ass time providing the last of the warships, signifying, along with the sword in her hilt, why she’d never trust the bastards with everything in her. 

Hours later, when there is no land to see, it’s real, and Sully doesn’t feel much of anything. Possibly it’s her deliberately forcing any negative emotions out of her damn mind. She’s in her full crimson armor, standing on alert with her sword as if it’s gonna stop any enemy warships. As if it’s for any more than calming her down, forcing her mind into meditation. 

She doesn’t even know why she’s doing it. She hates her damn sword. Gods, she misses being on horseback.

As the hours go on, Sully realizes she’s cultivated a reputation over the years. That is to say, no one has the guts to tell her to give it up. Not that there are many people on her ship over anyone else’s, but it may as well be zero. People walk past her, occasionally looking at her and deciding to do nothing (not that her challenging glares help). The more people know her, the less likely they are to get involved. Hell, her friend Stahl sees her and freaking runs the opposite way. _ Yeah, dumbarse, run right into the ocean. See what happens. _

Thinking about it, it doesn’t make her feel at her best to know her friends would rather jump into the ocean than deal with her, but she knows a thing or two about making your own bed. Besides, lying in it isn’t so bad. It weeds out the weak, at least. 

Sully doesn’t like weak people. 

A few minutes later, she feels a presence over her shoulder. She doesn’t know who they are, but they’re taller than her and don’t move even when she doesn’t show any signs of being receptive. The shadow has taken their own space, not a hair touching her. It strangely loosens her up from the stress she’s experiencing. 

“Yo, what’s up?” she asks, not turning around. 

The presence clears their throat in a familiar voice. By the time he says “You should probably stand down,” the word  _ Libra  _ buzzes in her head.

She moves her sword from over her shoulder to rest its tip on the ground, not letting go of it. She’s gotta get a sheath one of these days. She turns around to see Libra, expressionless but with kind eyes, in his familiar war monk attire. 

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” she laughs. 

Finally, Libra smiles. “It’s good to see you as well.” After a few seconds of silence, he adds “We have about a week or so before we reach the shores of Chon’sin. Perhaps the time would be better spent resting up.”

Sully nods reluctantly, and Libra notices.

“Is everything well?”

Sully sighs, but she’s also kind of glad that Libra actually inquired into her feelings. “I dunno. Just anxious a little.” 

“That’s understandable,” he responds. “I’ll let you know if your presence is needed.” Looking down at how she’s about to bore into the ship with her sword, he adds “Your sword as well.”

Sully chuckles. “Yeah, just give me time, okay? Gotta get over this sort of blah feelings.”

To her surprise and relief, Libra simply stays put, offering Sully a comforting smile. Sully closes her eyes and turns back around, but she knows for a fact that she’s smiling too. 

She doesn’t mind having him around.

Whether she admits it or not, that scares the hell out of her.

\---

It’s been a couple days since the surprise attack at sea, and Libra can still feel tension within the ship. Perhaps the others had believed that they would be safe from attack in the sea- despite the army traveling in warships. Some still seemed like they had hoped they would be safe, even though they weren’t sure. His mind keeps going back to Sully and how she was braced for attack, despite being poorly equipped. He’s sure that Robin anticipated it- a tactician anticipates everything- and to be honest, it crossed his mind as a possibility and left it just as easily. Sully was the only one on his boat who seemed resigned to something like this.

As such, she was the only one aside from him who is now fully relaxed.

He can see her now. She’s down at the other end at one of the ships that remain after the attack and Robin’s awe-inspiring diversion. (He’s not going to ever lose the sight of a sea on fire from his memory until his dying day.) She and Princess Lucina, Chrom’s daughter and the benefactor of Naga’s grace via time travel, are talking to each other. He doesn’t walk closer to eavesdrop, but he is curious to know what they’re talking about. Maybe he’ll ask her if they cross paths again. 

The ship is certainly more crowded than it was before, what with half of the others being torched at the bottom of the sea, and perhaps that’s the most unnerving thing to Libra. Not only is there a wide net of tension courtesy of most of the Shepherds and Ylissean soldiers, but the amount of people making small talk is setting him off more than the spontaneous fight ever did. There were a few people who wanted to pray with him or look to him for spiritual guidance, which he did with more ease than he ever did fighting. He didn’t mind that. No, it was those who tried to chat with him- some casually, others more forcefully- that set off his nerves. 

The latest person to tire of him was the manakete Nowi who, despite being in her thousands, had the attention span of an eight-year-old human. She was probably off talking to someone more receptive than he. She had asked him about the scar on the neck and he shut it down immediately, so of course she would grow weary of him. Besides, his tone that was more serious than he intended, betraying the emotional difficulty of the question at hand. He should apologize, but he’s sure that Nowi will forget it in no time.

She’ll probably ask him about it again in the near future. He’ll be nicer about not telling her how he got it. 

So lost in thought is he that he doesn’t notice Sully stand near him, sword in a holster that he didn’t know she had. “What’s up, Libra?” 

He closes his eyes for a moment. “I’m simply enjoying the ocean and its offerings.”

Sully chuckles. “Now that it’s not on fire, at least.”

Libra smiles, but thinks of the vision again and is surprised to find that it unnerves him. He changes the subject instead. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking to our Princess.”

Sully smirks, face darkening. “Couldn’t help but notice me, could ya?”

Libra shakes his head. “I apologize. I hadn’t meant to follow you.”

Sully is close to clapping him on the back but stops and claps her hands together instead. Not the smoothest transition, but he appreciates it. “I’m just messing with ya,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

Libra smiles. “I’ll do my best.”

“Speaking of,” Sully responds, “I think everyone is worrying a little after that battle.”

Libra nods. “I have… come to find that out.” In very personal ways, at that.

“Har, I betcha,” she says. “You’re the priest. I bet you’ve had to deal with a ton of freakouts afterward.”

Libra shakes his head. “These are trained soldiers,” he points out. “In the back of their minds, I think they knew this to be a possibility.”

Sully looks down. “Ah, damn,” she says too quietly. “Guessing you’re right.”

“Besides,” he continues. “It’s where I am most at home, to be honest. Imparting the wisdom and comfort of Naga… even to the non-religious, it can be reassuring to feel that someone is watching over them.”

“Truth,” she responds, leaning back against a stairwell, arms resting on the handle. “I mean, even though I’m one of those people… hard to pretend Naga doesn’t exist and all. So it’s a comfort in some ways. I just…” She darkens again. Libra doesn’t pressure her to talk, but smiles and joins her against the stairwell, granting her presence and reassurance even though her words look to fly in the face of what she knows he believes. 

Eventually, she continues. “Sorry, I just don’t…” she drags out her words. She’s surprisingly worried about what he thinks. “I don’t think she altogether cares about our whole deal on this planet, you know?”

Libra nods in understanding, even though he can’t say he fully does. “I would counter with the fact that you just recently talked in the flesh to our Exalt who had prior existed in a different timeline.”

“That’s true,” Sully responds listlessly, like she’d considered this point when coming to a conclusion far different than his. Still, she says no more, though Libra would welcome it; he hopes he isn’t putting off an unapproachable air. 

“I believe the grace of Naga is her strongest aspect,” he continues. “Though she is not all-powerful, she will never let her creatures face a wall alone that they did not will into existence.”

“That’s a nice idea,” she admits, but judging by her own disappointment he can tell that it is not a nice idea that she shares with him. Libra closes his eyes, but he’s okay with that. He knows Naga doesn’t condemn the nonbeliever; as such, neither will he. 

A light goes off in his head. It looks like the flames of the sea. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share what you and Exalt Lucina were talking about?”

Sully blushes. It’s a new look on her. “You know,” she says. “About the road ahead. She’s from the future, so she’s got a bit of a hold on what we need to do.”

Libra can tell that’s the truth, but that’s not the whole truth. Still, he can respect someone wanting to be secretive. He’s just surprised that it’s  _ Sully  _ being secretive. She’s clearly inexperienced at it. 

Sully breaks any impending silence by adding “You call Lucina the Exalt?” She snorts. “She’s still a baby.”

Libra scratches the back of his neck in a specific spot away from his scar. At least the storm did not steal away her candor. “I feel as though I should retain the formality of the title. She was the exalt once.” With a low chuckle: “She certainly has more experience than either of us do.”

“I dunno,” she responds. “You certainly seem royal enough.”

Libra smiles. “For that, I am flattered.”

Sully grins like the conversation went well and, despite the flood of questions on his mind, he can’t deny that he agrees.


	4. Chapter 4

At some point, Sully steps things up. 

Namely, when they’re preparing for a battle at the base of an expansive tree Chon’sin Princess Say’ri claims to lead to the Divine Voice Tiki, a concept that has piqued Libra’s interest. He hasn’t said it vocally, but for the first time in them knowing each other, Libra’s body language is very obvious. Besides, he’s religious and all that. This is probably a dream come true for him. 

Meanwhile, it’s just another battle for Sully. 

She isn’t sure what provoked her to give a piece of herself away. Maybe it was the ease of it all- even her friends who haven’t witnessed it tend to know. Maybe it was because the winds of change blew through camp and left everything in a rather welcome form of disarray. Maybe it’s because the closer they approached the tree and Tiki, the more Sully feared their paths diverging, and she wasn’t very keen on losing Libra. 

He still felt damn near unreal as it was. If he left Sully was gonna question if he ever existed.

“This sword’s killing me,” she leads as they get into position with the rest of the Shepherds fighting this battle. Libra holds a bolt ax in his hand with finesse, some of his locks reaching the head. Robin’s paired them off as fighters at damn near every battle since the Valmese inquisition started, and every time they get into formation together she thinks that he’s gonna singe his hair one of these days if he’s not careful. 

Sully reckons that he must notice the awkward, amateur way she holds her sword. She damn sure can fight with it, but idly holding the damn thing is another. It feels invasive against her muscle and skin. Like it’s giving her the finger just by being there, and to be honest, it may as well be.

“Are you unused to it?” He asks. 

She smiles. Damn, he’s really stepped up efforts to continue conversation lately. “Yeah, guess you could say that. Haven’t been a swords fighter for long, just through the whole Valm thing. But we were lacking at that particular part of what Robin calls ‘The Weapon Triangle’. And I guess....” 

She swallows. Okay, she didn’t expect that. She never gets emotional and this is  _ not  _ the time to start bawling, so she lamely finishes “I guess things being what they were, I was probably the easiest pick for the job.”

She’s satisfied that she gave an answer that most average people would be okay with until she remembers that Libra is not an average person by any means. “Do you… need anything?” he asks.

Sully’s surprised at how much she would  _ like  _ to cry in a heap on the ground, but she doesn’t need anything except apparently to blurt “Agh, sorry, this…” and groan to the skies. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, her getting emotional wasn’t what she expected. 

“Quite all right,” Libra responds. “We can change the subject if need be.”

_ Or I could quit being a little bitch about it,  _ she thinks. With impressive restraint, she says “Nah, it's okay. Uhm, I used to be a cavalier with my horse Alm. During the Plegia war, til…” Til _ let’s not go into specifics _ . “About halfway through, I’d say. We’d bust some arses in battle with ease. So being on my own two feet, it’s damn sure daunting.”

Libra nods with empathy that silently grieves. After a few seconds “May I ask what happened to Alm?”

Sully sighs.  _ Damn my life.  _ No way she could lie her way out of this one, and though she went in wanting to be honest, she really regrets that decision now. “War happened,” she says bitterly, the words a quiet, violent scrape in her throat.

He nods again, not losing that empathy. Looking up, Sully notices Chrom taking his place at the lead of the army next to the base of the tree, preparing to give orders. “Should probably pay attention,” she says, a little too relieved that the conversation has to end. 

“That would be for the best.” 

So they do, and part way through Chrom talking, Libra surprises her. Head down, he says “If it means anything, I don’t plan to let war happen to me.” 

_ Oh wow. It means a lot, don’t worry.  _

Regrettably, Sully blushes and misses whatever else Chrom was saying. Libra probably caught it though. He’ll tell her before she even asks

She checks her heart before they leave since it’s beating like a damn hummingbird. The only thing she can confirm is that he got to her.

Gods damn it.

\---

There are a few things that Sully grows to learn about the Valm inquisition. She doesn’t pay attention to many details, leaving those for the eggheads like Robin. She knew that Valm wanted to take over the world because the Valm leader was the most selfish bastard she could think of. She knew that they were aiding Chon’sin in the fight against Valm stealing their nation. 

She also knew that the Captain’s baby Lucina came back through some temporal bullshit and only spoke to her once on the boat. She was okay with that, but then Lucina deigned to apologize for the fact that they hadn’t found her daughter. 

A child is something Sully hadn’t truly considered as an option before, but apparently, she had and would give birth to a woman named Kjelle, a brash knight that Lucina speaks of with as much beleaguered fondness as Sully expects a member of her family to be spoken of with. It made Kjelle feel more real, and that was probably the last thing Sully needed while in this war, so she stuffed it to the back of her mind so she didn’t lose the whole damn thing. 

Below the surface, she could vaguely remember things about the Fire Emblem, the gemstones they were to gather, and the ultimate goal of slaying Grima, as Lucina dictated to the group at large. The whole thing was suspicious and funky, but Sully didn’t invest energy into decoding it. That was never her deal. Her deal was “point me in the direction of the enemy and I’ll get to work on the stabbing thing.” The less she worried about things, the better.

And then there’s Libra. 

Libra, the goody-two-shoes enigma of a priest who got to her.

Gods damn her eyes.

What about him got to her, she’s hard-pressed to define. Maybe it’s how he makes little gestures to lead her in. It’s a slow pace, but ain’t like she has anything better to do than to stab things and be his friend. Libra’s so interesting with all his Libra-ness. It’s like he’s always falling off a cliff, but he’s okay. That still unsettles her, but it’s just how he is. 

And maybe that’s what got to her. 

She remembers conversations with him because so little progress is made unless she counts it as relative to Libra, then he makes sure that there’s just enough to keep her interested. There’s just enough growth, just periodic enough to keep an upward trajectory. He’s almost a little manipulative, but she came into their conversations like a tactician so maybe she just knows them when she sees them like she did when they first met. 

She remembers when he admitted he didn’t like to be touched- which sounded like he didn’t plan a second of that interaction- and ever since then he’s initiated touch every now and again. She was okay with him not being a touchy guy- even though she’s generally very touchy-feely and is a little disappointed for some stupid reason- but now he’s doing it more than she ever planned to. Whether they’re little brushes of the palm when they transfer items or the occasional aimless hand on her forearm that leaves before she knows it’s there, they’re always initiated by him and they’re so quick that the memory of them and the longing for more is all she has. Barely anything, but still enough.

Is she a little deeper in than she expected? Damn straight she is. She isn’t proud of it, but she’s not  _ not  _ proud of it. If anything, it’s on him, because he is so damn good at giving her just enough to stay talking to him, so much so that she’s feeling conned, like she’s got a weaker personality than she thought she did. To most, she’s a tough nut to crack and her defenses are always about three notches tighter than she means for them to be. 

She didn’t piece it together, but she’s naturally like Libra in that she has a lot of people who are friendly at arm’s length but don’t bother building a deeper relationship with her. Yet, here he is, marching into her heart like he owns the damned place. 

Takes one to know one, she supposes.


	5. Chapter 5

The way he thinks of her is not how he ever anticipated. 

Libra has never been attracted to anyone in his life because that involves getting closer to people, and now that he is, the things he is learning about himself are startling in its frequency, like a rushing river chipping away at a dam. 

Is it just her doing this to him, or is it also his doing? He hasn’t the experience to say; blind faith is all he has. While some would casually say that’s befitting of a man of the gods, Libra has confidence (if not a certainty) that the gods do care about their lives and hear their prayers. Here, he has nothing to hold onto. The cliff he is diving off of has no defined landing. 

He knows that he’s averse to touch, and as his feelings towards her grow, that doesn’t change. Thinking of Sully as a sexual object feels… wrong, in a sense. At first, he wonders if he’s simply holding her on a pedestal she would probably resent whether she returned his affections or not. Still, he cannot say that as a concept it has ever appealed to him. 

He wonders if the perpetual burden of shame that has lain lifelong on his heart has hindered any carnal desires, or if his limited of desire for touch would have been a lifelong condition regardless of how he lived it. The two theories turn in his gut, intermittently acting as conclusions that he never permanently comes to, but cannot exist together in his eyes. 

He’s also surprised at how well he reads her. Perhaps, again, it’s a Sully thing. She isn’t complicated; in fact, she’s almost intentionally easy to understand. She leaves a trail in front of his eyes and only moves when she knows he’s seen it. At the same time, he finds himself paying attention to her far more than the others who he interacts with. They do not put in the effort, perhaps because they believe he isn’t worth it. Not Sully. She does, and it scares him. 

Her gruff habits to grow stronger reflect in the force she projects into every word, every footstep, every gesture. It’s second nature, the type that has a history of being itself forced until it became natural. He’s confident in this because there are moments around him where she speaks softly, smiles slightly, and lately returns his slight offerings of touch with small, gentle ones of her own. Maybe she does this to accommodate him, but it feels disarmingly free.

Perhaps the thing that has struck Libra the most has unraveled in his mind over time- her dedication and attention towards him. At first, he found it charming and quaint, how she would redirect her tasks into his path, but she didn’t stop after the first time. Many people do. He’s okay with that. Oftimes, he desires that. Sully doesn’t, and perhaps unnervingly, he desires that she does not. 

It is a joy to hear her speak even when she says nothing of note, because she is colorful not just in her language that most priests would balk at, but in delivery, enunciation, and how her words fall in exactly the right places. In the empty spaces of his mind, he remembers how she talks, the life in her words, the rushing kinetic energy in her steps- and when his mind gets emptier, his memories grow more intense, easier to hold onto.

Even still, the closer she feels, the more remorseful he gets. He has little to offer her; physical affection is difficult, his passion is a faith that she does not follow, and he will never be a good enough conversationalist. Beyond what he has shown her, however, is an unpleasant backstory that starts with the demon his parents think he had when they abandoned him and, to be quite truthful, is a demon he isn’t sure he doesn’t have.

No normal human would have a story like his. 

At best, even if she desires his company with growing intensity- and him the same- that doesn’t change the fact that he can only excel by his own low standards. Maybe he’ll become more receptive to touch. Maybe he’ll grow to be more active in their conversations. Maybe he’ll even react to fit her needs when he reads the hidden intent in her words. But Sully is evocative. Sully has personality and damned is the fool who tries to restrain it to a more digestible product for the greedy consumer. Sully deserves better than him. Even if Sully wants a closeness with him, she deserves better than that.

Such consuming guilt Sully cannot read, as he is adept at masking his emotions. However, she notices one thing- as she tells him during a march through the hinterlands of Valm. (She always stays closest to him when they march as of late.)

“You’re not talking much lately, you know that?”

Immediately he knows that the guilt is why. 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says. “I sincerely apologize.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she responds. “You don’t need to do that and all.” 

Despite her dismissive comments, Libra can tell that it’s dismissive towards herself and her own emotions, and she will have none of him telling her otherwise. So he doesn’t bother. Instead, he says “I’ll put more effort into putting forth a conversation in the future.” 

“You don’t have to worry about anything you’re not comfortable with,” she responds, but her tone gives away that it would be an undesirable outcome for her. 

“It’s an effort that I would be happy to put forth,” he says because he can’t pretend that it isn’t a large effort on his behalf. “I…” Does he dare confess even a little? To do so terrifies him, but he cannot imagine a world where he does not that doesn’t end in her eventually drifting away, and the idea sends intangible spasms of pain through his mind. 

Besides, most damning of all, he trusts her. 

He shouldn’t trust people, but he trusts her. 

“I have been trying to work on that recently.”

She lights up. “Look at you, Libra!” Again, he’s grateful for her usage of his name and not a distancing honorific or a far too casual nickname like many Shepherds give him. “The man I met, I think he’d drop gods-damn dead before talking to people. And here you are now, just zooming ahead.”

He’s surprised at the transparency of her response. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her all the change he’s shown has been for her eyes only. He does have the heart to warn her “It likely will be a challenge. Possibly…” He scratches the back of his neck and feels the scar on it. “Uncomfortable. I hope you understand this… and that I will try regardless.” 

She nods. “It’s okay. Take it at your pace. You’re still moving.”

“I admit, I’d prefer it if the pace were faster.”

She gently claps him on the back, close enough to him that it doesn’t incapacitate him with shock. “Just get focused on moving, then try setting a pace.”

He nods stiffly, unwilling to accept that proposition, the resignation to mediocrity. It falls quiet as Sully reluctantly accepts his unsaid response. He wants to apologize, but he cannot lie. 

He realizes that their walk has slowed from the pace of the army. Judging by Sully’s footsteps, it’s unusual still for her to walk on foot even though he’s only known her to. A few other fighters pass them, a shirtless blond with an ax mocking Sully in particular. She tells him to drop dead and turns back to Libra with a laugh. He’s unused to displays of friendship that manifest in vitriol, but it works for them, at least. It reminds him of his guilt, that to befriend him she tries to hard to avoid what comes naturally with this man. 

At least he’s learning to be better for her.


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe Sully was a little too used to it. 

This was probably not the healthiest thing to be used to. 

When it first happened, she was inconsolable. All of the spaces that should have had them burned her from the lack. All of the words they used to say filled up the silence that their words should have been in. The space on her back between the shoulders that they used to clap while either teasing her for failing to keep up or congratulating her for doing so never stopped feeling empty and touch-starved. It all hurt her so badly that out of desperation, she forced it all away. 

Of course, it never went out of her body; she just (poorly) shoved it down in her mind, and it couldn’t stay that way forever. When it started to resurface, it was as if an old monster snuck up on her and she denied its existence even as it attacked her until she was just as raw and sorrowful as before.

Even though she was only twelve at the time, and even though she’s more than doubled her years by now, she still misses her brothers. 

She’s in a bath. A cold bath, because they were just on the outside of a damn volcano and she’s covered in soot and welts and feels like even now she will never experience true cold again. She’s up to her chin and doesn’t move, because her blisters already seethe in agony and if she moves they’re gonna scream. Unfortunately, that just gives her mind ample opportunity to dwell on things she shouldn’t, and the things that she shouldn’t just remind her of her own brothers.

She didn't tear up when she first heard that it happened to the Chon’sin Princess. She’s long lost the ability to cry at every fresh wound, call it a blessing or curse. Even then, for Say’ri, it all seems… worse. Sully had a great relationship with her brothers. Say’ri and her brother… her empathy pains nearly cripple her when she thinks about it. She and her brothers would fight every now and again, but never like that. Never to such warlike extremes. Never with such heartless manipulation in the mix. It all disgusts and troubles her far more than it should. 

If she catches that little bitch toad Excelsior or whatever, she’s gonna have a really hard time saving him for Say’ri. Maybe she’ll kick him a few times. 

Hard. 

Yeah, she doesn’t tear up, but she’s mad as hell. 

The flap on her tent opens and instinctively Sully looks for something to throw (which, according to Robin, rarely works but sure makes one feel good). She tenses up and it hurts so bad that she commutes her shrieks into powerfully roaring “Get the hell out, Vaike!” because, in this context, that name so easily comes to mind.

“Oh! Apologies!” a woman’s voice responds, which, thank the  _ gods  _ it’s a woman. 

Sully settles, and the welts flush her with pain again, but she bites her lip something fierce. She sort of recognizes the voice but isn’t about to turn around or move in general, so she asks “Who goes there?”

“It is I,” she says. “Say’ri.”

_ Well, damn.  _ Speak of the devil and all. “Hey there,” Sully responds with far less grace.

“I apologize for disturbing you, Lady Sully,” she explains. Internally, Sully snorts.  _ Lady?  _ She’s too damn nice. In a voice that tries to portray elegance that it lacks, she says “I myself had meant to bathe, but I shall take my leave until you finish.” 

Sully’s struck by how hard Say’ri is  _ trying.  _ Struck harder than she expected, at that. What kind of pressure she must be under while suffering such a tragic loss that she skips straight to the lesser-mentioned repression stage of grief. 

_ Poor lady.  _

“Wait.”

Sully isn’t sure why she said something. She doesn’t know the princess, who by the way, is a  _ princess _ while she’s just a knight. A knight with a foul mouth and a short temper. She slowly turns her head to see Say’ri, her face made of stone near cracking. She’s holding a towel, wearing some sort of chest tape wrapped around down to her waist and a red skirt thing with loose fabric down to her ankles. The way she stands suggests that she is not even halfway cognizant of the world around her because being at half-power halves the grief.

She doesn’t look like a princess. She looks like a girl trying not to break from the weight of the world on her shoulders.

That scares Sully more than anything because she’s been there before over less.

“Uhm, I…” Ideally, she’d say that she’d love to help. She’d love to hear her out. She’d love to comfort her. It’s just that… considering that Say’ri has been through more than Sully has, Sully doesn’t feel like the right person to do so. 

So she says “I’m almost done with my bath.” She is now, at least, despite barely washing. “Tent’s all yours when I’m done.”

Say’ri nods just enough. Sully recognizes it from when she knows if she moves too much she’ll break. At the very least, Sully can give her time to de-stress and cry a little. 

“Thank you, Lady Sully.”

Before Sully can say  _ you’re welcome,  _ the princess takes her leave. She sighs, sinking her head into the bathtub for a moment. When she emerges, her cheeks are still flushed and she’s still filthy.

\---

Libra’s praying. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, but what better can he do with his time? The tension within the camp is overwhelming. In some ways, he’s happy to do what he can, though maybe happy is not the correct word. Content, maybe. In others, it is such an exhausting feeling, to be the one sane person people need when you yourself feel world-weary. A few people have sought his advice or comfort, but notably absent is Say’ri, the person most affected by the death of her own brother. She’s avoiding him, avoiding a lot of the feelings inside of her, and Libra can’t chastise her for that. 

To do so would also be to condemn himself. 

Libra prays to Naga for others. It’s never for himself. To pray for himself would be to admit weakness and pain, and he tries so often not to do that. Instead, he prays that there will peace around camp. That Say’ri will find peace in her heart someday. That everyone will have renewed faith in what they are fighting for. Libra also prays for others with the people present. For those lacking faith in the Valm inquisition, a renewed sense of purpose. For those suffering from grief, a renewed sense of peace. For those who fear for their lives, a renewed sense of faith. For those feeling lacking in their own abilities, a renewed sense of confidence.

Sometimes, he fears he is asking Naga for too much, that she will grow weary of his requests. He knows that he isn’t worthy of making so many. He only hopes that she will believe his humility enough to grant others what they want, what he promised for them. He can’t repair the pain in his heart, but he hopes that he will be allowed to fix others.

Libra finishes praying and, for the first time in so long, opens his eyes. He almost forgot he was in a nearby forest, so as not to be disturbed. At this rate, though, he can’t say in confidence that anyone would seek him out. Perhaps it is the mix of humidity and rain directly after a battle near a volcano. He cares not that any rain would sting his wounds, however. There’s a certain peace found in the moments where he opens his eyes from prayer and lets himself be where he is that he is willing to face pain for.

He’s reluctant to leave the area, and as he walks back to camp, he is slow and regretful. 

As he walks back to his tent, he hears a familiar voice call out his name. He recognizes it as the tactician Robin’s, and turns around to see her. She’s wearing her familiar cloak with the hood up, reminding Libra that it  _ is  _ raining and he is in fact banged up in just the right ways to forget that he’s injured until he lets the wounds flood with water. He winces at the pain, but he has a knack for not feeling touch too severely, so he fools himself into thinking it immaterial.

“Libra,” she says with a knowing smile. “I just had a strategy meeting with a few people.”

Libra nods. “I sincerely apologize for having missed it.”

Robin giggles. “Cause you were out praying or something, right?”

Libra blushes, looking down. “Ah, I… do that often, don’t I?”

“Enough to rely on it,” Robin says, “but it’s no big deal. There wasn’t a ton of people there, so it wasn’t official.”

Libra nods brusquely. “Even so-”

Robin puts her hand up. With a warm, sympathetic smile, she says “It’s okay, Libra. Honestly.” Immediately after, she transitions into business mode. Libra can see her stand rigidly and remove any superfluous emotion off of her face every time she does. “I just wanted to let you know that at a relatively quick pace, we will be on our way to Walhart’s castle in Valm. I hope we can get this accursed conflict over with soon.”

Libra nods with a courteous smile. “That would be for the best,” he says. Army morale is low enough as it is and he can’t pray all of everyone’s sorrows away. 

Robin smiles cautiously. “There is an exception to this, however.”

Libra closes his eyes, trying not to sigh. “Pardon me for saying so, ma’am, but we’re quickly losing time for deviations. They can be taken care of after we liberate Valm.” As soon as Libra stops, he feels guilt, tacking on “I apologize for the outburst, Robin” without looking at her.

Robin shrugs but is clearly disarmed. “It’s a valid thought. I’ve had the same, which is why I’ve cut down on a lot of… superfluous objectives.” Robin’s scowl appears and disappears abruptly, reminding Libra of many a time that an angered parent confronts him on the rather explosive anger they have towards Robin for delaying the discovery of their children- when they don't confront her themselves. Suddenly, he wants to apologize again.

Nevertheless, she continues.  “This is different, however. We’ve been… informed” (Libra can tell by her hesitation that they were not informed by scrupulous means) “that a group of Risen are aware of the divine voice Tiki.” 

_ Tiki.  _

Libra remembers the messenger of the goddess Naga from the brief meeting that the Shepherds had with her atop the expansive Mila Tree. Already, he feels a distinct flush of shame for inadvertently labeling her as a diversion, but keeps a straight face as he says “Oh my. Is she still at the Mila Tree?”

Robin continues to meet his eye, but it feels… more, now. “She’s on the Divine Dragon grounds just to our east. Princess Say’ri claims that she’s gathering power from the Divine Dragon. However, she’s put herself in grave danger. I’ve already heard urges from Princesses Say’ri and Lucina that we protect her, so that’s what we shall do.”

“By all means,” Libra responds.

Robin sees the gravity on his face and giggles. “Someone’s changed their tune,” she jokes.

Libra holds a piece of a smile. “Am I so predictable?”

“Reliable,” she corrects. “Either way, we don’t have time to waste, so we’re heading out by nightfall. Probably best to get your rest in before we do.”

“Noted.”

“I’m going to my tent to plan for the upcoming battle,” Robin informs him before abruptly turning away.  _ No time to waste indeed _ . Libra waves a fond farewell, smiling easier. Robin leaves him with “Who knows, maybe you could learn a thing or two about your faith by talking to her yourself!” and the authenticity of his smile fades. He’s already ruled out talking to Tiki. He’s a humble priest, not a world-class theologist. He certainly has no room to pretend that he could be worthy of her presence. 

The rain is starting to sear at his wounds and Libra can no longer hide it, so he runs to his tent, all but diving into his cot as the sear is all that remains. 

\---

Libra and Sully acknowledge each other at the edge of the tents as Robin calls everyone to leave. Libra has wounds on his legs that he has not patched, but tries to cover it up with fabric. Sully has patches of healing balm and soot in her skin but is soaked and drips as though she recently took a bath. 

It’s the first time either one is genuinely happy all day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been gone for too long. It's time to bring it back.

Sully's never been one to move too fast. That's just not how she works. She's always needed time to confirm her feelings- that, or any person would need to pass an entrance exam and already be close to her for her to even consider courting them. Besides, it's maybe the fifth or sixth or seventieth most prominent thing on her mind, only popping up when she's trying to be comfortable with going into her forties completely romantically untethered- or, in this case, when it's been maybe two months and people are already getting engaged and she's nothing but stymied.

She probably shouldn't think of girly shit like this. At all. Okay, maybe not girly because that's just not a derogatory term she feels comfortable with, but she's a noble. This is how everyone expects her to think, and she hates that, but they picked up Henry just before they got on the ships to Valm, and now he and Olivia are engaged. Sully's talked to Olivia a time or two, and once you get past her painfully shy demeanor, Sully can confirm that she's always been incredibly expressive, sincere, and romantic.

Looking at them, Sully can't help but think and how!

Since they're approaching the Valm stronghold to personally deliver a boot to Walhart's arse, this should not itself even approach the top ten things on her mind, but, ah hell, they're experiencing downtime. The camp is set up in plains about five miles away, which is as inconspicuous as they get in this landscape. Everyone's a little on edge that they'll be found and smoked out by Walhart's men, even Libra, but maybe he's just allowing himself to be on edge around her.

She likes that idea.

She's just outside of the tent she shares with Libra because sneaky-arse Robin keeps pairing them together, the only reason that the tents are co-ed is that there are already a few gay people in the army so why even bother trying to play it straight? Besides, it's not like Robin's hiding that she wants to play matchmaker. Not very well at least.

She's sitting cross-legged on the ground, listening to Olivia and Henry be the talk of the town. Libra is not showing the slightest bit of interest, lying on his cot while, by the large campfire, Sully sees a luminescently red Olivia shyly cling to Henry as he lazily fields all the questions about the two of them with his signature cackle. Henry's always been a spectacle, but she can't imagine how the hell he deals with the conventions of romance and gossip. Sully sure could never. Sully could never imagine being attracted to such a shamelessly kooky and bloody guy.

Finally, Sully speaks to Libra, with a pre-emptive "okay, I know it's bloody stupid of me to get so worked up over this."

"The two romantics?" he distantly asks from inside the tent.

:"Yeah, like…" Sully stops. "It's just weird. Sorry for bugging you."

Sully hears Libra lean up. "If it's on your mind, it's very valid."

She chuckles. "Yeah, but it's stupid to even be so worried. Cause like…" she scratches her head, wondering if she actually wants to pursue this conversation. It's Libra, but it's also her being embarrassing to Libra. She doesn't like it. Still, it's hard to imagine Libra being embarrassed about her. He's a safe person to talk to, and Sully needs that sometimes.

"I mean, I'm not jealous," she says, and that's the truth. "And I'm not really bitter either, like, I could probably stay single 'til I die and be okay with it." That part could stand to be more truthful. "I just… feel like…" What does she feel like? "I don't know," she answers herself. "I guess that it's too fast, but also that, like, everyone's gonna get hitched before we leave Valm."

Libra chuckles. "I would be lying if I said Robin isn't playing matchmaker."

"Right? Speaking to my soul here. I think she's pairing us up with a shit-eating gr-" Then Sully blushes and stops. She'd be damned if Libra wasn't thinking the same as well. She gulps but tries not to think about it.

"I suppose," he adds, and Sully can tell he's changing the subject. "With the arrival of the kids from the future, the topic of marriage and parentage is on peoples' minds." He stops to think. "Maybe pressure is involved in the equation, which would explain the moving fast about it."

Sully nods, but then her heart skips as she thinks of Kjelle, and hell, that makes her wish she was thinking about sneaky-arse Robin. The idea of Kjelle's all she has. How, when her back was turned, Kjelle turned into the type of complex, interesting woman that the other kids could describe for hours. Truth be told, some of those other kids have arrived, and she's seen the pressure they add to the Shepherds, and… thinking of Kjelle now, she can relate to that.

She wonders if anyone else has found it too painful to address the other kids about their as-of-yet-unfound children like she's found it too painful to address anyone but Lucina about Kjelle. Even though Lucina parrots stories from the other children about her, there's something comforting about the impersonal way she recaps them.

Suddenly, she doesn't want to see Olivia and Henry anymore. She didn't want to in the first place, but now she knows she shouldn't. She crawls into the tent, not looking at Libra. Still, he sits on the side of the cot, patting the space next to him to indicate a space for her. After a second of hesitation, Sully takes it. Libra looks at her like an open book, making Sully look down. She hates how weak and pouty she looks, but around Libra, it feels more okay.

"To be honest," Libra assures her, an apologetic affect in his voice, "I do find it sweet, in an odd way. I have…" He clears his throat. "Like myself, I feel like the Shepherds are a bit…" He hesitates again, and Sully elbows him. She'll be damned if she's the only one embarrassing herself with her vulnerability. He finishes with "aimless."

"Aimless?" she repeats. It makes sense, but she feels read regardless.

"I would confess so," he responds. "So, in a way, I feel like this would be good. It would give people a glimpse of their future. Structure. Something to look forward to. I think, whether out of fear or clarity, that everyone moving so fast… that's a response to what we've learned."

"Huh." It's all she says, but she knows Libra can tell it's content with his answer. Neither of them says anything, but Sully would be lying if she said that it didn't comfort her.

Things feel more certain now.

Libra is good at making things feel more certain.

* * *

 

Libra should be relieved.

Libra should be celebrating the end of the war.

Libra should be doing a lot of things.

Libra should definitely be healing people now that the battle is over.

Instead, Libra is worrying.

Libra's doing his best to heal the injured with Lissa, Maribelle, and their future son Brady, but his focus is not in it. When he should transition from one person to another, he instead paces around the respite tents the injured are resting in. Lissa knows why and glances at him sadly as she goes to the next person, but Brady, a fellow priest unlike the fellow priests Libra knows, keeps giving him a stink-eye- though Maribelle sees Libra's concerned face and informs him that Brady's always like that. "He's a bit of a boor," she explains, clearly blindsided still by the behavior of her own child.

Libra is not dismayed at working with him- he considers Brady a beautiful sign of the union between the two women in the tents with him- but he wishes Brady would not be as openly suspicious of him or demand that he focus. It's not that Brady is wrong to be suspicious, but he would prefer to be left alone.

Libra works on the next patient- Olivia and Henry's son, Inigo. He has a nasty gash in his leg, and his rickety attempts to smile through the pain keep giving way to winces and groans as it heals. Libra absently gives Inigo instructions to stay still when he nears jerking away from the sting of the salve, but in his state, where his mind keeps going to the hall that he could see a few heavily armored knights in and Sully racing to confront them, then a few mages to his back he had to himself confront. When he turned around, Sully was gone and has not yet been seen after the battle. Fearing the worst would immobilize him completely, but trying to stifle it is not going much better.

After Inigo is healed, Libra looks at the next patient- Tharja's child, Noire. Though she's been quietly othered by the first generation due to her lack of a known father and the sordid reputation of her mother, Libra cannot deny that she's generally very sweet; even that her bouts of anger are justified. She also has an arrow sticking out of her stomach. Noire swallows down tears but is unable to hide the sobs. However, as he goes to work on her, Brady cuts him off with a stern grab that belies his own physical weakness.

"You're too damn distracted," the younger priest growls. Libra wants to object to that idea but keeps his weak retort internal. Brady looks at him, and his countenance echoes Libra's own fear so viscerally that Libra has to bite his lip to keep from gasping and letting far too much of his emotion slip. "Just go," he says. "I'll take care of her, okay?"

Libra nods, knowing how important this loner is to him, startlingly able to relate despite being a loner himself.

As the other patients are being taken care of, Libra apologizes to Naga and sneaks outside of the tent. There are a few people resting near a fire unlit during the day hours, ones that watch Libra stumble away without leaving him with any words deeper than customary hellos that Libra is in no mood to return. He stands at the edge of camp, considering walking into the now-vacated castle he can see in the distance. It's a tall task, but it seems less than challenging in his mind. The idea of searching the castle up and down for her seems surprisingly easy. A couple of Shepherds are looking for her; why couldn't he?

So distracted is he that he doesn't see a speck walking uneasily towards the camp until he recognizes that it is her, and at that moment he is Brady, reaction visceral, his head jerking awake as he starts to run towards her, his eyes shamelessly filling with tears. Sully kneels and stops, and Libra recognizes that she is injured. He runs even faster towards her, stopping in front of her as she weakly smiles.

"How bad is it?" he demands.

"You gotta stop thinking that things are gonna start off bad," she scolds, but the way she seethes doesn't aid her statement. Libra looks at her with knowing sympathy, so she says "Probably just a flesh wound. Hurts like the damned, though."

Libra bows his head. "At least there's that."

"You crying?" she asks.

Libra nods. He's okay with that.

"I'm okay," she tells him. "A couple of 'em got me first, but I got 'em harder."

"Thank Naga."

Since desperate times call for desperate measures, he takes Sully's hand and pulls her to her feet. Sully takes it, but tries to stay distant, until Libra asks "do you need to lean on me?"

"You okay with that?" she asks, even though she's unsteady on her feet.

"You're injured," he insists forcefully. "However I feel about is irrelevant."

"I'm fine," she insists back. "I'm more worried about you than anything, you know. I don't want you to think this is anything too dire to do things you don't want."

"Yes, well, I do think that, Sully!"

Libra goes silent. He's alarmed at how forceful he was and apologizes. Sully shamelessly gawks at him, eyes wide when they aren't closing with her winces.

"I'm so sorry," he insists before she can chastise him. "I just… care about you."

Sully looks up at him, knowing the magnitude of that statement. She smiles weakly, but her face is as red as her hair. "Thanks," she mumbles, softly leaning on his shoulder and holding his far hand. "I care about you too."

Libra almost tells her that there's no need to tell him. He already knows. Still, it may mean the same thing to her as his own confession meant to him. The two wander back to camp and the healing tent, and Libra can only hope that them being separated is not a regular occurrence.


	8. Chapter 8

Sully isn’t the same when they return to Ylisse.

The idyll of home is overwhelming, even for her. She’d spent so long away that she’d almost forgotten how it felt. The familiar streets, the familiar tongue, the familiar towns, the familiar fields that she used to ride Alm in, all of it strikes her with a novelty she never experienced. She’d never left the continent of Ylisse before, and the country only during the initial war against Plegia. Hell, it was in Plegia that she lost Alm and was herself injured to the point where she could no longer fight. Being in Ylisse after so many months abroad is the first time she felt safe, safer still with Libra at her side in near perpetuity. 

She knows they won’t be in Ylisse forever. 

The prospect of venturing to Plegia terrifies her. 

Chrom tells everyone it’s only to retrieve the final Gemstone for the Fire Emblem, but she just knows it won’t going to be as easy as his dumb arse acts like. Like Validar was just gonna hand over the final gemstone and be on his damn way.

During the week they stay in Ylisse to rest, this terrifies her. She has her own room in Chrom’s castle in Ylisstol during the stay, but she rarely stays in it, or on the castle grounds in general. She manages to stay in Ylisstol, but the animalistic urge to desert and escape is overwhelming. It wasn’t like her at all.  _ Desert?!  _ She’d yell at herself. _ The hell you are, bitch!  _ Sometimes she says it under her breath for emphasis. When she repeats things to herself, generally they codify into her mind.

She can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s because she can’t stop thinking about her brothers. She wishes she could, though. It’s almost a moral responsibility to keep the lights on her family. Mom and Pops are too old to squeeze out another kid. Not only that, but she has Kjelle. She’s gotta find Kjelle and one day  _ have  _ current day Kjelle once her life settles down a little. (Maybe she can ask Tharja if dark magic can create life as her child is back and Sully can’t imagine anyone would risk marrying her.) Libra said this whole child shebang would clarify things for people, but it’s done nothing but confuse her.

She just knows she’s been trained to put the army in front of everything else, including her family legacy.

Ain’t  _ that  _ some bullshit.

She finds Libra in the streets of Ylisstol while she's again lost in those thoughts. He's been leaving castle grounds to scour the city streets every now and again too, always meeting her with childlike wonder hidden in his eyes. It's still there when they meet now, just dimmed in the squalor of embarrassment. An unseen man is walking away with a red face. Judging by the irritated flush on Libra’s face, it’s probably another one mistaking him for a woman to flirt with. 

Sure enough, as Sully hastens to join his side, he says “that hasn’t happened in quite some time.” 

“That’s home for you,” she says with a barking laugh.

Libra smiles and accepts Sully into his space as she walks next to him. They don’t hold hands, but they look unmistakably coupled with each other. Eventually, the clearing around them is abruptly encompassed by cobblestone walls. Sully notes that while it looks somewhat similar to Chon’sin or Valm or even Plegia, it is at the same time unmistakably Ylisse. 

They don’t talk, which is typical for them, but she can tell by Libra’s face that he questions the silence this time. Sully swears internally. She’s so easy to read, and she knows what a swing this damn near cowardly mindset is from her normal ones, but at the same time, it’s all she can think about. The walls are suffocating her- is this what she wants? To lose her life to the streets of Ylisse eager to claim her rather than risk dying abroad? To never meet-

Libra finally asks “Does something trouble you?”

Sully sighs and raises her hands. “You always know, don’t you?”

The walls break into another clearing where various vendors and storefronts face them, the intersection the near-perfect shape of the North Star. She sighs and beckons him towards the side of one of the walls standing next to a patch of grass she sits in, hand on her head, tears in her eyes.

\---

Libra isn’t sure how to deal with this.

He just knows that he wishes she would stop feeling pain.

Emotional pain is something that Sully rarely shares with him, yet in a twisted way, he is relieved for her to release it every time. He remembers her talking about Alm, and her apprehension about the marriages between newly acquainted Shepherds, just as he remembers many things she says. 

She’s never been quite like this before. 

She has her arms folded over her knees and head bent down so no one else can see her cry. Libra can still hear it, though. He knows. He knows, and he hates it for her. He can only hear her repeat in a trancelike manner “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die” with a childlike mix of anger and terror. He feels her side against his and tries to make himself okay with placing his hand on her further shoulder, but it feels too invasive to keep for too long. 

Finally, Sully looks up. Though Libra expects her to criticize him for his lack of warmth in handling her sorrow, she says more clearly “Libra, if I go to Plegia, I will  _ die.  _ There’s no way around it. I’m gonna fucking die.” 

Logically, there’s a good chance that she won’t, but he knows logic can’t break through at the moment. He regrets that he knows those moments too well. All he can say is “You won’t, Sully”- an equally bold statement, as he knows the odds aren’t concrete that she won’t. 

“I’m gonna,” she insists. “Just like Alm did. And hell, I nearly did too when he did. That’s why you never met me. I never made it to Emmeryn.” 

The memory of the fallen exalt still wounds him, but he knows it always will. Besides, this is no time to focus on his scars. Instead, he says “You have grown as a fighter. Your bonds themselves have grown. Besides,” he adds as she sniffles, “there may not be a reason to fight in Plegia after all.”

“It’s Plegia,” she insists with a miserable drawl. “Validar’s a creep. It’s almost certainly gonna happen.”

Damn. He can’t argue with that. 

“I just…” Sully chokes and leans into her arms again, emitting another crying jag. “I’m gonna die, and I’m never gonna do anything with my life. And my family…” She seems to start to say something else but interrupts herself with a sharp breath and another sob, harder than before, fingers digging into her pants. Libra doesn’t feel confident in trying to pull whatever it is out of her. 

Instead, she says without his interjections “I wanna be the greatest knight Ylisse has ever seen.” Within her tears, she scoffs. “You know, reasonable as that sounds.”

“It’s an admirable goal,” Libra admits because at least she’s confident enough to take on massive goals like such. Opening an orphanage is much smaller, and yet it feels like a pipe dream.

“Yeah, I mean,” she says, “I’d really take just being a great knight honestly. I wanna be the greatest, but if I’m not, I just…” She chokes again. “I’m gonna die, and I’m gonna just be another shitty, mediocre soldier no one remembers the name of.”

_ Except me,  _ Libra thinks, but to his frustration, he knows that’s not enough. Instead, he insists “You’re going to get there one of these days.” 

“I just…” She looks at him, teary and beyond logic still. “Just how, exactly?”

Strangely passionate about forming a solution to the idea, he says “We’re a team now. That’s why Robin has paired us together so often- she knows.” To anyone else, it would be a simple fact, but Libra is close to pleading.  _ See? She knows, Sully. She knows that I am the one for you.  _

She smiles slightly, though she looks no closer to healing. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I fight with you,” he says, “and I will fight  _ for  _ you as well. This is something you didn’t have the last time you fought for Ylisse.”

“What didn’t I have?”

Libra’s heart nearly stops and he turns redder than her hair. He would probably burrow in his own locks in most circumstances. “I- ah…” He’s quiet for a few seconds. “You know.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sully admits. “But I’d still like to hear it.” 

Libra sighs, but he’s smiling, as hard as it is to say. It takes him a minute to say it. Sully doesn’t interrupt him, rush him, or seem dejected that it takes him awhile. 

It makes him feel natural.

“A partner.”

Sully beams. It lights up the darkness between her knees, She’s beautiful.

They stay on the patch of grass beside the wall facing the North Star intersection until the sun goes down. Libra doesn’t notice when exactly they start to hold hands, but when he notices, he’s very okay with it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one PoV for the next two chapters

Eventually, they do work their way over to Plegia, and Sully doesn’t desert.

She isn’t sure if she’s brave or an idiot for staying- probably both- but Libra is rarely too far from her, and she’s comforted by that. 

That’s the only comfort she has. Everything else has gone to hell, just as she expected yet at the same time far worse than she imagined. Validar not only deceived them, but he stole the Fire Emblem after he possessed Robin, who was alternating between shame and anger while trying to keep a straight face. Still, she doled out strategies for the future with far less authority than before the return to Ylisse. Having seen Grima’s damage herself, Lucina had been crestfallen, but not simply at the idea of Validar resurrecting Grima- if the fact that her resentful glares at Robin softened into remorse were any indication. She’s gotten a little better at reading strangers, but even she knows Lucina isn’t exactly  _ subtle.  _

All this happened over the course of one night- and that night isn’t over yet.

It hasn’t been a great day for Sully. 

The crew is setting camp up in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere. Chrom twitches every now and again like he would like nothing more than to keep going, but Sully knows she’s exhausted and half the camp is dead on their feet. 

As she sets up her tent, she tries to parse through what little she knows. The Fire Emblem’s gone because Robin got brainwashed or some shit. If they don’t get it back soon, Validar’s gonna resurrect Grima and there goes the world. Even beyond that, though, she thinks back to the inquisition. Of Tiki and Say’ri and how they still stay with the Shepherds and Libra still has not the courage to talk to the former, though he tells her repeatedly that he will consider it. Of how Basilio died partway through it and how she misses having someone with a fouler mouth than her in camp. Of Kjelle, a faceless spirit that she tries not to pester Lucina about anymore, tries to forget about, tries to push towards the back of her mind except for the times where it consumes her brain and leaves an irreparable ache in her heart. 

She finishes the tent and sees Libra follow her, fixing the mistakes she isn’t surprised she made in her distracted exhaustion. She flops on the ground and instead of getting the cots, he follows. She closes her eyes but decides they can wait until later to get them. She may sleep on the gods-damned dirt. 

She’s surprised that Libra kneels and gently lies down next to her like the hoity-toity graceful bastard he is. Their sides touch again, but neither seems to mind. 

“You’re gonna mess up your perfect hair,” she teases. 

He gently grunts. “It’s already going to be a mess in the near future,” he responds. “Perhaps I’m simply getting a headstart.”

“Hmm, that.” She smiles. She likes when Libra gets a little attitude around her. She likes real things, and the more real he gets, the more she likes him. 

The two are quiet for a while, the comfort of their presence near each other drowning away Sully’s thoughts on the unholy mess before them. She’s always been the type to worry about that later, but as things get worse, she isn’t sure she  _ should  _ be. 

She decides it to be safe enough to bring up something adjacent to the conversation. 

“I’m thinking…”

“At this time of night?” Libra warns, a wan smile on his face.

“Aw, hush,” she responds, and he chuckles. “But that just means if I’m thinking of anything stupid, we can chalk it up to the time and forget about it.”

“I’m sure it won’t be,” he tells her. 

“Heh.” This is probably the twelfth time Libra has made her blush since they met, and she probably hasn’t blushed much more than that ever. “I mean… let’s say this all ends and we don’t die. We can just… go for what we want, right?”

“I assume so,” he says. A logical response as expected. Still, Sully can sense him smiling.

“Yeah, well… I’ve been thinking that the whole knight thing- that’s gonna be the background of my life going forward. And I’m, like… what are we gonna do with it?” Sully turns to Libra, hand holding up her head. “Like, what is it that you want to fill your life with?”

Libra rubs his eyes. He almost hits Sully in the face by accident, but at least he’s loosening up. “I cannot say that I know full well.” Sully tries to hide her disappointment as he continues. “I would like to see peace return to the world. I would like to be even better at teaching the gospel of Naga. Perhaps over time, I will build and open the orphanage for the children who need it. Still, all of these are  _ ideas,  _ none fleshed out.”

Sully snorts. “Yeah, they’re probably the same with me. But, like, they’re things I wanna do for me. And yours are all about what you can do for others. And it’s okay to be selfish every now and again, you know?”

Libra clears his throat awkwardly. The more tents that begin to surround theirs, the darker the light is into theirs. “I do have long-term goals, like yourself, and I am…” He clears his throat again. “Doing my best to embrace those… does that not seem like a thing I am doing for myself?”

Sully sighs. “In an annoyingly technical way. Look, let me put it like this- is there anything that you want for yourself? Anything?”

Libra leans up and folds his hands over his mouth, eyes locked on the flap of the tent. Sully can tell that he’s thinking and that he’s unnerved all the same. She waits for him to apologize, and he does, qualifying it with “It seems that I don’t know at this moment.”

“It’s okay,” she insists. “That’s what we’ve got life for, right?” 

Libra nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. Sully sighs as both lie back down. 

“You know what’s been on my mind a little?” she continues. “That made me wonder that?” Libra turns towards her at her words. “Lucina told me I had a kid out there.”

“Oh my.”

“Oh, gods-damn my.”

The two lay next to each other and attempt silence, but Sully can tell Libra’s burning up at the mention. She asks “Is everything okay?”

“I…” He stops. “A child?” Before she speaks, he adds “I mean, with all of the children that traveled with Lucina and how they’ve all claimed Shepherds as their parents… I suppose it makes sense. I just… didn’t consider that you would be one.”

Sully snorts. “‘Cause you thought I was gonna be a spinster forever?”

She relishes the way Libra gasps, choking like he hit his head. “I can assure you that it’s not what I meant, Sully, I apolo-”

She means to cackle but giggles instead. It’s adorable to see him scramble sometimes. “Relax, Libra,” she says. “I mean, I would have thought the same.”

Libra relaxes. “I apologize.”

“Stop that,” she demands reflexively. “Half the stuff you apologize for you don’t need to.”

Libra nods slowly but clearly isn’t comfortable with the idea. Damn it, now Sully wants to apologize, but she lets it go. “How has knowledge of this child… impacted you at all? I imagine it has to have.”

She nods. “Yeah, like, course it has. I don’t know much about my kid but that’s on purpose. I mean, I’m curious, but I try to draw a line in it, ‘cause if I were more familiar with her then I’d have ditched everyone a long time ago trying to find her.”

Libra winces, and even in the dark of night, Sully knows it. She decides to piece it all together in her head rather than ask him to explain the pain. He’s not keen on that. She eventually starts to enter the realm of _getting it,_ the idea of leaving before she became this close to Libra, and says “Damn it, I’m sorry I didn’t think of...”

“It’s your daughter,” Libra insists. “The fact that you’ve made it this far without so much as telling anyone-”

“I know, I know,” she moans, leaning up and facing him. “I should have at least told you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that honestly what you’d expect my response to be, Sully?”

Sully closes her eyes. “Not really,” she says, “but I think I would if I were you. I shouldn’t have kept this a secret, but-”

“You’re far too harsh on yourself.”

Sully’s surprised enough to flop her arms back on the grass with a loud poof. Libra usually never interrupts her, and she was about to snap back at him but instead, her mind wanders towards thoughts that better illuminate the statement.

“Maybe.”

“I certainly believe so,” he says, leaning up. “I’m no stranger in keeping deeply personal secrets to myself. It is completely fine for you to have your own, especially those that weigh on you so. I know this can’t have been easy for you to bear for so long, so to share it at all is the strongest thing you’d ever do.”

Sully smiles, even though a few tears have been provoked. She can’t help it; she trusts his words. Oftimes they’ve given her heart when hers was near to breaking. He’s her partner. His words are his connection to her. Damn, she’s gotten sappy, but… She needs him in times like these. Everything’s so haywire and emotional, so she needs a fellow person she can trust to effectively comfort her.

“So if there’s anything I want in life, right now…” She sighs. “Probably it’s to find her. Because everything’s really coming to a head. And not only do I not want her to die, but it’d also suck for her if her mom went and left her a damn orphan again.”

Libra seethes and closes his eyes like the idea hurts him more than her. Then, in a serious tone that could provoke rain from the gods down into the desert, he says “So it shall be. We shall find her.”

“Damn.” She whistles. Her heart’s racing. “That’s… big.”

“If it’s momentous, it fits the occasion.” 

She turns to him, almost falling into his shoulder. Libra would probably be surprised, for sure, but she can’t really hide how being near him sets her soul on fire. She doesn’t really feel this way, even around the men and women she’s deemed pretty. Perhaps because none of them are people that she would imagine to ever be hers. No matter how unspoken it gets, Libra is  _ hers _ . 

“Sully?” 

Damn it, she got lost in thought. Thought that certainly has left her beet red in her clothes. She flops back down with more bounce than she expected on the grass. “Sorry,” she says. “I just… you’re really good with words, you know? Like, really damn good.”

He blushes.  _ Har! Gotcha back, buster!  _ “Coming from you, I’m truly flattered. I’ve long admired your way with words.”

“Oh wow, for real?”

He nods. “I can count multiple times where your words have made me feel…”

“Feel how?”

Sully’s heart skips a beat because she knows that they’re falling and they’re not going to be the same when they land. 

Libra struggles for words, and Sully reaches for his hand. He hesitates to take it, so Sully repeats “Feel how?” because she’s gonna get some sort of reaction out of him.

A few more seconds. Then “I fear I have nothing to say better than… ‘your words make me feel good’.” He looks downward at where their disconnected hands are. “I wish I had a better description for you. I apologize.”

“It’s all good,” she says, voice raw and starved. “I think I can get it.”

Finally, finally, he takes her hand. When he squeezes it, she nearly falls atop him, giggling in a way that isn’t entirely logical. “My, my,” he muses, but she can tell that he isn’t near alienated. 

“Libra, I swear…”

“You do that a lot,” he points out. 

“Har!” she barks. Slowly, she dares to shadow him. “But this time, I think I’m gonna mean it.” 

Libra’s grin in response is surprisingly impish. “No time like the present, I suppose.”

She leans down toward his face, hands pressed against the dirt to either side of him. “I'm just gonna kiss you,” Sully says. Maybe more, if he wants it, but if not, she'll deal.

“That's fine,” he responds, the look on his face somewhere between  _ deliriously queasy _ and  _ very much more than fine. _

Are you sure?” she asks. 

He hesitates, and Sully’s starting to regret she asked because she herself is damn sure, but she knows Libra’s defenses are tricky to get over. The more she asks if it’s okay, the more she knows she actually did it. 

Libra slowly pulls his legs from underneath Sully, giving her cause for concern until he accidentally rams her head with his knees as he does. He gasps when she flies back, rubbing her forehead something fierce, concern out the window.

“Fuckin’ hell, gods sakes,” she steams, eyes closed because the world hurts to look at. “What the fuck was that?” Huh, she  _ does  _ swear a lot.

“Oh gods,” he says. “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, jackarse,” she responds with a teasing smirk, quickly getting back up and over him. “I never took you to be experienced but I’m pretty damn sure that ain’t how you kiss someone.” 

He laughs to himself so quietly it gets lost in the wind. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Sully. I’d…” He scratches the back of his neck, stopping before he gets too low. “I’d feel more comfortable were I to sit up, but please, allow me to rectify it if you would be so kind.” 

She cracks a guffaw. “You get one chance, Libra. One-”

Then, because of course, something has to happen:

“Come quick!”


	10. Chapter 10

Libra can feel the anger within Sully even though she doesn’t use her words. Maybe he’s just attuned to her, but he’s always been empathetic. The camp at large is a mixture of regretful, angry, hurt, and hopeless, but Sully’s is a particular breed of all of those things that stands out to Libra. 

They’ve marched to a new camp and set up a little earlier in the day, something Libra feels apprehensive about considering how intense the circumstances are, how close Validar is to resurrecting Grima, but he also knows that with their hearts the way they are right now, they need a bit of time to bleed. 

Theoretically, he should too, but Libra knows that the people need a level headed and forgiving priest right now. Lucina has already seen him in private begging both him and Naga for forgiveness for nearly killing Robin, but Libra cannot find it in his heart to condemn her for looking at the kind, bemused tactician and seeing her father’s killer. All he could do is stroke her hair in a way too wooden to feel authentic as she cried out her shame. At the same time, Robin had not yet seen him, as if to avoid hearing what he would say. Is she afraid of him condemning her, or him advising her on a path she does not want to take? 

Libra hopes he would do neither to her. 

Being an effective priest is the only unique skill he offers to the Shepherds, an offering he so rarely gets to grant to people. It would be a shame if failure was all his chief tactician expected from him. 

When he sees Sully curled up near a tree, eyes closed, he realizes that is the first time he’s seen her all day. Though they generally have been joined at the hip, spending time apart is not unheard of even as they gravitate towards each other. Still, under such circumstances, he should at least pay her a visit. There’s no way what she’s thinking can be healthy. 

Libra can’t imagine anyone is feeling too healthy.

Sully hmms as she feels Libra’s presence at the base of the tree next to her. Libra doesn’t disturb her at first, looking up to assess the tree. As they’re still in Plegia, the trees possess no fruit, especially not in the canyons, and the bark has chipped away from a lot of it. Curious, he hits the side of the tree with force, and more bark loosens. He’s not surprised; the Shepherds have taken to the hinterlands of the hinterlands in their escape, so far away from Plegia’s main roads that they will never be found- though, with Validar having stolen the keys to unlock Grima, he doubts that Plegia will put up a dedicated pursuit. 

Sully doesn’t stir in the commotion, and Libra closes his eyes as well. If he needs to wait for her response, he will. At the same time, she doesn’t look restful. Her staying against the tree seems out of spite to herself. He knows she’s bursting to the brim with words. With most people, he would not interfere and let them be, to avoid drawing their ire. However, he’s lost the ability to pretend that Sully is like most people. 

“I can’t imagine any of this feels good.”

She snorts, eyes still closed. “How’d you guess?”

Libra chuckles. “I am grateful to see that it hasn’t eaten at your personality.”

Sully smiles despite herself. “I try.”

Libra smiles as well. The more he is around Sully, the more endeared and enamored with her he becomes. Every now and again, his thoughts drift to Sully’s hands near his ears, her weight hovering over his body, her breath hot on his face, her hungry smirk, and though he feels sinful for having such thoughts in such a dire situation, he can’t deny that he would- even now- surrender to her. 

With that said, he puts his hand over her neck and shoulder. Her eyes shoot open as she looks at his hand like an invasive object. It is still so foreign to touch her so casually- at this point, he knows neither are quite sure about what to make of it.

“If there is anything on your mind,” Libra tells her, “I would love to hear it.” 

Sully hmms again. “You saying that as a priest or as my partner?”

Libra chuckles. “I’ve been a priest all day. At this point, definitely the latter.”

Sully sighs, buckling under an invisible load. “I’m so damn  _ angry, _ ” she says. “I can’t even parse it all out. I just…” She bows her head. “I didn’t even see this coming. What the hell was she thinking?”

“ _ She  _ being Lucina?” 

Sully nods. “Hell yeah. I’m gobsmacked. Far as whatever I know, Robin’s been the key to this whole thing. Robin is how we know what to do to even try and stop this all. And Lucina wants to up and  _ kill  _ her? Is she out of her mind?” Before Libra can answer: “And yeah, I  _ know  _ that Robin got manipulated into sabotaging the Fire Emblem, but not only will we get it back, but that’s all Robin did wrong.” (Part of Libra muses that they’ll never get it back if they continue to go at a snail’s pace, but he keeps that to himself.) “Like we’ve been through so much only to not be able to handle that? Just fuckin’ have her give us instructions chained to a wagon if it gets that bad.”

Libra closes his eyes. If only he could pretend that he thought things were that simple. That he hadn’t dealt with a woman who lost her father, her crown, and her world. That he hadn’t dealt with another woman who could only shuffle around and mask her grief, the resignation in her eyes betraying that the biggest regret was that Lucina failed to do what she needed to do. 

When Sully finishes with a near-hyperventilated “Lucina nearly ruined everything because she wasn’t seeing straight. Robin isn’t Grima. Robin isn’t the enemy. Everything we know now can fix what we didn’t then.” She throws her hands up. “She’s from the future. She should be able to  _ see  _ that.”

Libra closes his eyes. Before he can stop himself, he says “I don’t think it’s nearly as simple as that.”

“You don’t?”

The words are a challenge unique from her to him. Still, despite himself, he obliges. “I had the chance to speak with Lucina today,” he says. 

“So she feels bad about it,” Sully grumbles. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t do it.”

Libra nods. “It was still a very… affirming sight to see. To see not only her remorse, but her fear. I find it easier to forgive her-”

“You forgive  _ everyone, _ ” she points out, but for some reason, it sounds like a negative quality. Like gullibility, not mercy. 

“Knowing what she went through,” Libra presses on, “and that this legitimately seemed like the only option to save her father, I cannot condemn her for her regrettable actions.”

“Honestly, What with all she’s been through,” Sully says, deep frown on her face “she scares me more than Robin does.”

Libra doesn’t respond. 

He isn’t sure he’s there. 

His eyes slam closed, and all he can think of is an orphan. An orphan who lost her father to the betrayal of his best friend. Or an orphan who lost his parents to deliberate abandonment. An orphan among orphans who had to balance the fate of the world on their shoulders. Or an orphan alone who stole to eat, hid away to sleep, and never knew a true home. An orphan who risked everything to save her world. Or an orphan who scraped the edge of society for life and finally found it in Naga’s grace. And yet… just as one orphan struggled with a life-or-death matter of revenge, the other struggles with being exactly who Naga intended- because he can’t let go of the idea that maybe Naga  _ did _ sit by idly while he spent a childhood suffering. 

“Surely you don’t mean that,” he chokes. 

Sully turns to him, at once concerned and angry. “Mean what? I mean, look what she  _ did!” _

“I  _ know  _ what she did,” he responds, angrier than he’s ever been. “Robin is my friend. It would have  _ hurt  _ me badly. But there’s no way I can see her actions as invalid. Incorrect, unacceptable, but  _ valid. _ ”

“But what if that were  _ you? _ ” she asks defensively, naively. “What if you did something wrong and your friend’s kid tried to kill you? What if you could understand that move? Would you let her?”

“Yes!”

No one says anything. There’s no sound but the wind. Libra’s chilled by how silent it is without them shouting. The press of the wood against his back is all that confirms he is alive, and absently he notices that he has not had his arm around Sully for awhile. 

The next whisper is quieter than the wind: “You wouldn’t really…”

Libra just nods. “I would. I mean… there’s no reason I shouldn’t. I have already committed my life to Naga’s will. We as Shepherds have weighed our lives in the balance to defend the greater good. In comparison, my life has no worth.”

“It gods-damn…”

She doesn’t finish, but Libra feels nauseous regardless. Like he’s gone too far. Like he’s unveiled what he didn’t mean to. He’s spoken the truth, and he knows he shouldn’t have.

“I must retire to my tent,” he says abruptly, leaning up. 

Sully holds his arm desperately. “Libra, just stop this, okay?”

Libra shakes his head, smiling sadly. “Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared of me.” 

It falls quiet again. Libra still feels her fingers on his arm. They’re violating. “Let me go, please.”

Sully doesn’t respond at first, fear in her eyes. Libra tries to comfort her with his. It’s not her fault she got him so upset. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that he’s as scary as Lucina was. 

Sully lets go. The look on her face wishes she hadn’t. Libra smiles at her, but it doesn’t reach, because it isn’t authentic. 

He doesn’t hold onto his smile before he walks away. 


	11. Chapter 11

Sully cares too much at this point and she isn't sure how she feels about that. Down on herself, probably. She's always been the type to put work and duty on her mind before some guy. In fact, she's very weak to have her work thoughts be about wishing that she had deserted and the rest of her thoughts center around Libra's happiness. Sure, it's not the only thing on the forefront of her mind (she's got a kid out there, after all) but it's a frustrating mess and she can't figure it out. 

As she gets her minimal shit together for the march ahead, she finds it all moot. Call her a pessimist or realist, but there are some of the heaviest battles she's ever fought before her and if she fails either she dies or the world does. As it turns out, having the world on your shoulders is so much weight that it's hard to think of anything else.

The fact that she is at all seems ridiculous. 

She finishes packing before anyone else, bag on her shoulder, sword in its holster, Alm still gone, a short march through an endless desert ahead. She sits in the center of camp, on a log by a quenched firepit unneeded in the sweltering daytime. She’s about to ask Robin if there’s any cooling balms or salves that have been invented that she’s missed out on until the only person with equally as little to pack takes a seat on the same log as her and her guts turn into dreadful pudding because she  _ damned well  _ knows who it is.

“Hey, Leebs.”

Libra acknowledges her with the world’s most awkward wave. 

“Don’t be so weird, dude,” she responds bitterly. “The world’s about to end and I’d like my partner to at least acknowledge me as his partner.”

Libra doesn’t say anything before he sighs. It’s the kind of sigh that breaks loose like an escaped animal from a trap that wanted to stay closed. He still doesn’t say anything, but he scoots near to her. Neither of the two smile or allow themselves to be affectionate, but they’re not in smiley affectionate moods. 

“What’s up?” Sully asks lamely. 

Libra still says nothing, and Sully’s heart sinks into the ground and probably halfway to the core of the planet. The guy is acting strange. It’s not Libra-strange either, or at least what she knows. Generally his strange is the exact type of strange that, bizarrely, she could figure out. Now it’s just… generic strange that eludes her. It’s impersonal, and it flops a regression of progress right in her lap like so much mess hall mush. 

“You okay?”

Libra nods mechanically. 

“Okay.”

That’s where it could end, but Sully looks at that idea with her mind’s eye and doesn’t like that. Sure, she’s probably gonna die soon, but at the same time, she’s probably gonna die soon, and she doesn’t wanna come back as a ghost with unfinished business from when she was a chicken-shit while alive. No, if she goes, her bags will be well and truly packed. 

“Look.”

Libra turns to her as he’s addressed. For the first time, Sully can sense heat emanating off of him. She can’t tell if it’s anger, passion, agony, or sorrow, but whatever it is, Libra has never let himself feel it around her. That should be a deterrent, but Sully has never played by the rules. In fact, this is the kind of Libra that’s close to the one she needs. 

“If I said anything rude or hurtful,” she starts, “I promise, I’m very sorry about that. And I wanna be sure to do it right next time. I just...:” She runs her hand through her hair then grasps it in a frustrated clump. She needs a damned haircut. 

“You didn’t know,” Libra responds, quiet enough that she nearly misses it. 

“That’s just it, Libra.” Her response is calmer than she feared it would be, thank the Gods, but the fire’s still there. “I mean, I’m not the get-over-it type. I may seem like it ‘cause of how brash I am, but I know what it’s like to still be emotional and hurt by events that happened a long-arse time ago. So are most of us. We’re  _ soldiers.  _ In the offchance that we live through this shit, we’re all gonna have scars. So we understand. I understand, I promise.”

Libra nods again. It’s as wooden as before, but more forcibly so. There’s a distinct stench of panic in his movements. 

“If we’re gonna do  _ this,”  _ she continues, trying to stay soft despite passion welling up in her chest, “you’re gonna have to be vulnerable with me. And you’re gonna have to come out of your comfort zone. And… it’s gonna suck, but like…” With a bitter laugh, she adds “Hell, I’m doing it. I’ve made a mess of both of us being emotional. I’m always the angry one. Or the crying one. I don’t wanna be the only one, you hear?”

Libra nods again like a damn puppet. Sully sighs. Of course her feeble attempt at a joke didn’t fly at a time like this. She tries to be guarded at times like these, but Libra’s made it impossible to stay guarded for too long. And that would probably be fine because Libra’s very reassuring, but Sully notes a serious power imbalance in their relationship as it starts. 

“I feel like I’m giving too much,” she admits, because hell, she’s admitted a lot to Libra- why stop now? “I feel like I am letting go of too much and you’re letting me because you think that’s what you’re supposed to do. Priest is supposed to listen and heal and shit. And as weird as it is, I’m trying to be okay with giving too much, but… I guess what I need is for you to let me carry things for you. To trust me as much as I trust you. I don’t like the idea of hurting you by accident. Because you would rather me step on your toes than tell me I shouldn’t.”

Libra doesn’t nod this time. In fact, he heats up more. Sully steals a glance to her left and sees a deep, confused blush on his face. It’s not the most ideal way the conversation could have ended, but hell, it’s something. It’s a reaction. 

Finally, he says “I never have.”

Sully looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

“I will try,” he says with intensity and terror that he tries to hide. “But it may take time.”

Sully nods as woodenly as he did. “Are… are you sure we have much time left?”

Libra closes his eyes. He doesn’t have the answer either. That’s fine, probably. Not really, but sure. “I… am a man of faith,” he explains, but for such a simple fact, he doesn’t sound very believable. “Ultimately, I have faith that what needs to happen will happen.” 

Sully wants to groan. It’s like day one with him all over again. A ton of non-answers and a really uncomfortable need to push her away. 

“Even if you have to sacrifice your way there?” Libra doesn’t respond. “You’re braver than I am,” she adds. “I just… hope we have time, you know? And if we don’t… that you won’t go down with a heavy conscience.”

At that time, more people start to show up, so she knows her time is up. She falls into silence, tired already, so the march will surely be  _ pleasant.  _ Libra turns his head towards her, and as she feels his eyes on her neck, Sully cranes to make eye contact for the first time that day. Libra looks… demoralized. Scared. Ashamed. It guts Sully so much that she turns away. Libra should not be feeling these things. Still, as much as she hates to admit it, it is better than not feeling anything at all.


	12. Chapter 12

The march stops for a short while, so Libra prays. Libra has not prayed enough lately- not like he was before returning to Ylisse. Then again, he has always been bad at praying to Naga about himself. It’s never been his strong suit to care about himself, to allow him to believe that his thoughts matter.

Some habits are hard to change.

It’s easier to claim that praying for himself is to benefit someone else. Usually, it is a request to clear his heart before returning to his duties as an ideal priest. This time, it’s to make him a better partner to the woman who was kind enough to steal his heart. It’s never explicitly about himself.

He prays for peace. He prays for understanding. He prays for many things that don’t feel like what he needs, and that he doesn’t have a damn clue about what to do with. He just knows that they’re the only things he knows he should ask for right now.

As he leans up, the others are still catching their breath, bent and gasping for air like it’s draining through the atmosphere. The Shepherds have been weak lately and considering the magnitude of the battles ahead, that is not a good sign. Still, Robin always said a competent, slow army is better than a ragged, rushed one. He just disagrees that now is the time to be slowly _anything,_ given the circumstances.

Maybe that’s why Sully talks to him like she’s pressed for time, but thinking like that makes him anxious. He _needs_ time. Libra can never do anything overnight. The thought of doing so drives him out of his skin. He made so much progress with Sully as it was; how it is that she expects more eludes him. Still, as much as he is embittered at the idea, perhaps he is selfish for hoarding time that he struggles to use.

If only she knew how much he had given for her already.

He feels a tap on his shoulder and jumps, eliciting a startled “Fie!” from the person who did so. He looks behind him to see the Chon’sin Princess at his back, meeting him with weary, determined eyes. Now it’s Libra’s turn to be startled, bowing quickly before rising to his feet.

“At ease,” she orders. “In this land, I am not royalty. I am a fellow Shepherd, and you are more than free to treat me as such.”

Libra wants to point out that she would probably be the princess of Chon’sin in any land but deduces that she knows better than him.

“P- Say’ri,” he says with a nod that may have been a curtailed bow that he caught too late. “I trust that, given the circumstances, you are doing well?”

Say’ri thinks for a second. Quietly, she admits “Surviving, at the very least.”

“That’s commendable,” he promises, warming his smile.

“Yourself?”

Libra thinks of everything going on. Not just the immediate; in fact, if he stays numb enough he can let go of the fear of the world ending. It would be easier to claim his sorrows to be about the recent confrontation with Sully or even its unsettling aftermath, but Libra knows. He knows that it extends further back than all of that, than a life Sully or any of the Shepherds even know, than anyone knows or would suspect has been awakened in him.

“I suppose there is a lot on my heart,” he admits. It’s the least and most that he can say.

With impressive composure, Say’ri nods. “Aye.” Before Libra has readied his next statement, he hears the sound of feet moving against sand and gravel around him. Say’ri helpfully adds “I’d inform you that it appears we march once more.”

“Thank the Gods,” Libra blurts. Then, he covers his mouth. “I mean-”

A sharp laugh sounds off next to him. “Aye,” she agrees. “Can’t be claimed that the world is in peril or some fancy.”

Libra scratches the back of his neck with a guilty chuckle. “I admit… so.”

“And fine be it to admit.”

The two join the rest of the crowd, and Libra notices that Say’ri has not left his side by too far. She keeps a respectful distance, to his relief, but he is surprised and a little uneasy at the fact that she is there at all. Say’ri occasionally glances at him, and when she notices him catch her, she does not turn her gaze until she is good and ready. She is forceful in the way that he can only imagine one with authority and curiosity admits.

Suddenly: “Your countenance is troubled.”

“We are going through a lot,” he defends sharply.

“Aye, I’d be remiss if I thought otherwise.”

Libra’s pace slows, and he gazes at his feet. Blast; he’d treated her as though she’d no idea when she absolutely did. “I apologize.”

Say’ri turns away from him, eyes towards the sky. “‘Tis no need to. I ken to possess a tendency to pry. Perhaps from an obsession to understand things, I suppose.”

Libra sighs, and sighs again after a minute passes and he still feels the conversation resting on pause, the rope on his end. The army is in near lockstep, though with so many feet against the ground a few steps are out of sync, and Libra can see a few people go off the trail by just a few feet, as though on leashes. Say’ri is in lockstep with him and him alone, and gives him looks to prove it.

To sate her, he says “You needn’t worry about me, Say’ri. The problems I have right now are rather small.” The immediate ones, at least.

“And yet your heart still does grieve.”

“I- ah…” Libra can’t deny it, but if he could, he would.

Her eyes level out again. “Your nation need not be at turmoil, your kin not dead, for your heart to grieve,” she claims. “Nor is it weak or selfish that it does regardless. All that matters is that it is sorrow that you experience.”

“No matter how trivial?”

“Aye, no matter.”

Libra continues marching, the whole time fighting against believing her words. He can’t believe them. His problems have always been immaterial compared to the larger ones at hand. The past is the past, and the present is not too vexing. In fact, end of the world or not, things are probably better than they’ve ever been. At the same time, though… would it not be so nice to believe that? To let his heart grieve?

Clearly, his consternation is visible, as Say’ri looks at him and sighs affectionately. “Perhaps the easier question is, do you have someone who would let you grieve?”

Sully’s last words fit so well that he gasps. Say’ri’s gaze turns triumphant, smile screaming pay dirt. Lying is a sin- not that it stopped him before- so he admits “I do have a friend.” Well, more than a friend- does Sully want their partnership known? Maybe it would be worth asking, had they time.

Judging by the way every ounce of Say’ri’s grace vacates in favor of a snort, it’s likely that she knows regardless. “Absolutely,” she says incredulously. “A _friend_.”

“Do you question it?”

“Out of courtesy,” she responds with blunt teasing. “Else I daresay your _friend_ may be a touch disappointed.”

Libra gives a bitter laugh. “I’d hate for that to happen.”

 _When Say’ri thinks_ , he notices, _Say’ri thinks visibly_. Right now, he’s worried she’d absently run into the axe Vaike is lazily carrying in front of her blade-first, so lost is she in thought. “Mind your head,” he says quietly.

Say’ri looks up to find herself inches from its blade. “Mercy!” she shouts. Vaike jolts and meets the gaze of the princess, who motions him out of the line. “Please, reposition that that before you decapitate an ally!”

Panicked, Vaike says “okay, okay! Chill!” He walks off to the side, pouting as though Say’ri was the unreasonable one.

“Fie!” Say’ri does look visibly annoyed, but the feathers that line her collar are no more ruffled than before, though she has lost her train of thought. Libra feels the spottiness of conversation in the air, like entering in and out of sound as it starts to slip away. He notices Say’ri’s eyes follow the overhead path to pale green hair. As Libra follows her gaze, he notices a woman as tall as anyone else with hair as messy, patchy, and grand as grass on the ground, ponytailed together roughly with red ribbon.

“A friend can certainly help in times like these,” she concludes, a little hazy.

“A friend or a _friend_?”

Say’ri cracks a tight lipped smirk.

“I believe turnabout is fair play, is it not?”

Respect turns her lips into a grin. “Aye.” Looking again at her companion, she says “Mayhaps it is so, mayhaps it is not. A conclusion I have yet to reach myself. Still…” She smiles in a way that betrays a special sort of deference to her. “I cannot deny her ability to push me from my comfort zone.” Her countenance slacks. “Though… I certainly had to allow myself to leave in the first place.”

Libra _ahhs_ to hide the genuine illumination that exposes him.

“No matter the pace… must have to light up the void someday, aye?”

Libra looks ahead at the green-haired woman that he can now discern as Tiki, and Say’ri’s gaze follows. Libra steals a gaze at the princess, and she is surprisingly soft at that moment. It would make sense that, as Robin predicted, Tiki would illuminate things for him- though not what he expected, and through another altogether.

Fitting that the voice would have a voice to speak for her.

“She is not that tall,” Say’ri muses playfully. “Perhaps another is carrying her once more.” Indeed, Libra notices that the manakete’s head is slumped downward. Next to him, Say’ri smirks. “‘Tis always to find a time for rest with Tiki.”

Libra laughs quietly. How one can find time to rest at a time like this baffles him… but it’s better than never being at rest at all.


End file.
